Lost In Prophecy
by skybluepink
Summary: NEW Is an ancient prophecy set to bring about the downfall of the dar side... A new Slytherin is in town. Drama, mystery and possibly some Dr? romance...(Pls R&R)
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**   
_Dalton Manner stood proudly atop the Cuillin Hills in the Scottish highland region of Skye. Magnificent yet daunting, its four-hundred year old towers rose far into the low cloud which often sank from the sky during the winter months; its turrets often invisible to the few who saw it from the outside – generally tourist hikers, strayed from their mapped-out mountain footpaths._

Nobody, however, was ever seen to enter the Manner, or castle, as it was commonly described as. The descendents of the Dalton family kept themselves to themselves, their privacy protected by high walls peaked sporadically with huge stone gargoyles and griffins, strangely resistant to the weathering of their four-century longevity.

In the smallest room of the tallest and most northern-pointing tower, a young girl sat weeping against the bolted door of the only room she could call her own, more of a cell than a cosy child's bedroom. Shaking, she wiped away her tears and defiantly pushed her weight against the heavy wooden door, as if terrified that the bolts alone would not hold against the angry forces on the other side of the castle.

That fateful night, she had wished their privacy had never been disturbed. Things had never been easy, but relations had deteriorated over the past few hours when a stranger had somehow appeared inside the Manner's walls, claiming an imperative motive for his unexpected, and quite clearly, unwanted visit.

She covered her ears to block out the furious voices echoing from the west wing through the usually icily silent hallways. Shuddering, she could make out only one word from the angry cluster of voices.

And that word... was **prophecy**.

(A/N: To be continued...?)


	2. Private Sorting

17-year old Cora Stern sat, stiff as a board, perched on the very corner of a stool in Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft & Wizardry's office, looking emotionless. Beyond emotionless. Numb.

"I understand this may come as a shock to you Cora..." Professor Dumbledore's voice emanated power, but also sympathy.

Cora grunted something under her breath.

"But," Dumbledore continued, pausing to push his half-moon glasses further up the slant of his large nose, "it is of inexplicable importance that you continue your training as a witch, despite the death of your aunt and uncle..."

"I don't want anything to do with being a witch!" Cora suddenly found herself saying, in her lilting Scottish accent. "My aunt and uncle could not have done more to..."

"...Put you off?" Dumbledore interjected, almost impassively. "Yes, that is rather unfortunate." He sighed. "However, you have a purpose..."

"You keep **saying** that!" Cora snapped, immediately regretting her tone of voice, as the headmaster's bright blue eyes inquisitively bored into her. She took a deep breath. "This 'purpose' of mine...?" Her voice trailed off.

Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively. "All in good time, all in good time..." He glanced at the large grandfather clock in the corner of his office. "Now I do believe we are about to miss the opening ceremony of the new academic year. Having never experience one before, I would hate for you to miss your first, and simultaneously your penultimate one." He picked up a tattered old hat from the corner of his desk. "But first, we need to sort you." He slowly stood up and seemed to glide across around his desk to Cora's side.

PLOP! Cora jumped slightly as the hat's floppy brim slipped over her eyes.

"SLYTHERIN!" The hat roared, causing Cora to shriek in surprise so great that she slipped backwards off of her stool and landed with a thud on the wooden floor, the sorting hat lying next to her, having fallen from her head.

"Well, that settles that then," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "Professor Snape, your head of house will escort you down to the Great Hall. I'm sure he will make you feel welcome..." He clapped his hands and one panel of the wall in his office seemed to dematerialise, revealing a rather moody-looking man, whose black hair hung limply around his shiny face, emphasising the presence of his abnormally-large, hooked nose.

Cora tried to hide her distaste. Professor Snape did not look like the kind of person capable of welcoming somebody to his or her own funeral, let alone to a new school. She swallowed her nerves and walked towards the unfriendly face, not daring to look back at Dumbledore in case her legs to charge and caused her to run behind him and hide.

As the wall panel appeared back in its place, Dumbledore continued to smile, preparing to head down to the Great Hall himself.

"Slytherin..." He cast the Sorting Hat an interested look as he picked it up, ready to present to Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house, to sort the fresh intake of first years. "Curious... Very curious indeed."


	3. The Great Hall

Cora sidled into a spare seat at Slytherin's table, soon after the official Sorting ceremony had begun. She was delighted to get away from Professor Snape. The few words he had uttered in an attempt to be friendly (?)...polite (?)...civil (?), Cora did not know, had been about the high standards he expected from those in Slytherin, particularly in Potions. Besides his limited conversation, he had a funny smell that seemed to follow him around.

"GRYFFINDOR!" Bellowed a familiar voice.

Cora watched in awe as a far table, presumably Gryffindor, burst into a loud round of applause and cheers as a terrified-looking 11-year old boy made his way over to them, the colour only just returning to his frightened pale cheeks.

"Linton, Horace!" A small, tubby boy stumbled through the remaining unsorted first years, nearly sending the stool flying when he tripped over his own feet. He slumped down on the stool, mortified, as a snicker of laughter arose from Slytherin's end of the hall, and stared at the floor to hide the unflattering red colour his cheeks had flushed.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The furthermost table erupted with cheers, and Horace Linton somehow mustered up the courage to stand up and walk over, his cheeks still flaming, although his excitement was visible across his podgy face.

"Labovitch, Melis..."

"New 6th year?" A drawling, yet well-spoken, voice came from behind Cora, and she spun around to see if it was addressing her. She came face to face with a striking blonde boy, with a defined jawline and glittering silver-blue eyes.

"Yes." Cora managed to stutter, not having been expecting anybody to make conversation with her. She did the only thing she knew to do, and held out her hand. "Cora Stern."

The boy stared at Cora's hand for a while, as if deliberating over whether it was worthy of his touch. "Malfoy." Eventually he took her hand and briefly shook it, letting go almost immediately. "Draco Malfoy."

Cora decided against a comment of "nice to meet you." Somehow it did not seem fitting, so instead she smiled weakly.

"Welcome to Slytherin." He continued, although he did not sound as though he meant it. "Don't bother with the other houses." He smirked and turned to his plate, which had magically filled with food.

"Why have you moved to Hogwarts so late?" A female voice rang out from the other side of Cora, as she was loading her plate with roast potatoes. "New students in 6th year are rare. What happened? Were you kicked out of Beauxbatons or something?" She shrieked with laughter at her own joke.

Cora cleared her throat uncomfortably. "I was, err, tutored at home." She tried not to mumble. "I was tutored by my aunt and uncle, but they, err... They died."

"Oh." Said the girl. "Sorry." She didn't sound even remotely sorry. "I'm Pansy Parkinson by the way."

"Cora Stern."

"Stern?" Pansy's left eyebrow shot up into her blunt, dark fringe. "Family died...?" She stopped dead mid-mouthful, and there was a very pregnant pause before she spoke again. "You lived at Dalton Manner, didn't you?"

There was a clatter of cutlery around them, and suddenly everybody at the Slytherin table fell silent, all attention on the new girl.

Wishing the ground would swallow her up, Cora turned slightly green. Patriotic, some might say, seeing as she was a newly-appointed Slytherin. Every eye on the table was boring into her, waiting to hear what she had to say...

She swallowed nervously. "Err... yes?"

(A/N: What happened at Dalton Manner then? If you're interested, reviews will be greatly appreciated. Flames too... But I can't guarantee I won't laugh hysterically...)


End file.
